1967
by peacensafety
Summary: Dean and Castiel haven't seen or heard from each other in ten years. How will they react to the choices they've made since those two months they spent together in 1957? Rated M, y'all, in case you didn't notice.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So… here's the sequel. I hope y'all like it! It's ten years later, in case you didn't notice the title. **

"Last mission, Mr. Winchester?" Warrant Officer 4 Bobby Singer asked him, putting one of his large hands on Dean's shoulder.

"Yes sir," Warrant Officer 3 Captain Dean Winchester agreed.

"I heard that you got recruited by the FBI," Bobby smiled. "What are you gonna do with the FBI?"

"Prob'ly the same thing my daddy did with the CIA, only in the homeland," Dean said, kicking his boots up onto the desk where they had been planning the raid to extradite a few hostages back to the US.

Singer laughed a little, trying to keep his sense of humor. "They're putting home base in some place in Massachusettes…"

"And I've got a few months before I have to report to Washington. You want me to go back with you? I don't know what I would do around all those Harvard folk…"

"Well, one of the hostages is a professor from MIT," Singer said. "You might as well get chummy with him, maybe make him one of your friends…"

"You say that like I got a ton of friends, Bobby," Dean said, cleaning his gun a little.

"I think you should still make friends outside of your brother, Dean," Bobby chided him a little bit.

"Well," Dean said, standing up. "That's an opinion." He said it like everyone had a right to their own opinion, but he wasn't going to agree with a single one of them.

"Let's go over the hostages, okay?" Bobby dropped the subject, and Dean was grateful for that.

"We got three high school teachers who were offered safe passage in order to strengthen the ties between countries," Bobby pointed to the pictures of the three young women on the left of the bulletin board. "They're very young and idealistic, so you need to worry about that a little bit. If they've been convinced that being held hostage is going to be good for the country…"

"I'll just knock their asses out," Dean shrugged.

"There's the MIT professor I told you about before. Couldn't get a picture of him, but the State Department is really worried about this one. Apparently, he can make numbers dance or some shit. He's been working on those supercomputers, you know? Those machines take up whole rooms, I can't see anything useful coming out of those experiments…"

"There's always Pong," Dean shrugged. "That's an awesome game, Bobby."

"Pong," Bobby scoffed. "I've seen you boys play that game. What a stupid waste of time. I promise you, nothing will come of that invention…"

"We'll see, Bobby," Dean shrugged, smiling. He knew that he could always get Bobby off topic with that. Bobby hated change.

"Anyway, this hostage, Professor Misha Collins…"

"What kind of a name is Misha?" Dean looked at Bobby.

"I don't know. He seems to have been an orphan, sponsored by the Senator from Massachusetts…"

"Senator Crowley?" Dean asked, suddenly alert and looking at the paperwork in front of him.

"Yes, that one. This kid… he's younger than you Dean, apparently he's the original target of the unnamed assailants. They seem to think that he's special, and they're offering to let the young women go if the United States government swears off all claim on this Professor Collins."

Dean felt his heart speeding up. There was no way that this was Castiel, but he hadn't heard a word from him in ten years. He had stopped looking when he graduated college, but he kept his ear out. It didn't matter; there was no sign of him ever. Uriel had said that he thought that he had called once, seven years ago, and asked for Dean but when he was informed that Dean wasn't there he had hung up.

Dean made himself not hope. He had been making himself not hope for years, but the least little thing could spark it off. It was like he could never get Castiel off of his mind, could never get past the two perfect months that they had spent side by side as children.

Dean sighed, ran a hand through his military short hair. He doubted that Castiel would have waited for him anyway, but it would be nice to reconnect with him. After all, Dean hadn't waited for Castiel, had he? He had followed his father's expectations and had gotten married out of college, fathered a son and a daughter of his own, and then lost the third child and his wife at the same time. His kids were now staying with their Uncle Sam, the irony of Dean's service not lost on them. They stayed with Uncle Sam, Dean served Uncle Sam, and everything was just perfect. Only totally and completely not.

Sam and Raphael were busy relocating them up to Massachusetts, where Sam could also study at Harvard Law School. The 10th Special Forces Group's decision to make Fort Devens its home base was a welcome change from Fort Bragg in North Carolina. At least there would be no goddam sand fleas, Dean reasoned.

His son Ben was in the first grade, and his daughter Lissa was starting Kindergarten. Dean brushed a hand over his heart, where he had sewn their pictures into his uniform. They were enough reason to live, he told himself. He would miss Castiel until the cows came home, but his children gave him a reason to exist. He desperately needed that, although he didn't want to analyze too closely why that was.

Regardless, this Professor Collins would distract him for the next week, at least. Getting him out of Soviet hands alive was going to be a challenge.

"The KGB is watching the hostages closely, of course," Singer was explaining. "They have Spetsnaz watching Professor Collins closely."

"How did he get into Soviet hands?" Dean asked. He wasn't looking forward to dealing with the top-secret Spetsnaz, a force so secretive that most Russians didn't even know of their existence. They were trained similarly to the American Army Rangers though, and although Dean was a Green Beret he still wouldn't mess with a Ranger unless there were exceptionally good reasons, even if they were a new group in the United States military.

"He wanted to sponsor one of the teachers exchanges tours, and he speaks fluent Russian. Our government would not have endorsed this decision, but for some reason Professor Collins didn't tell anyone about his special circumstances…"

"What are those circumstances?" Dean asked, feeling his heart sinking.

"I have not been informed of them," Singer shrugged it off, "They just told me that there were special circumstances that would not have allowed him to go on this trip. Of course, it became clear that he was a special case when he was taken hostage."

Dean nodded. He almost but not quite knew who this person was. Castiel would have questions that could only be answered in the Soviet Union. On top of that, no matter how many times he had looked for Castiel Novak, the man had disappeared completely. It would make sense for him to have had his name changed for security purposes, although 'Misha' was a piss poor excuse for someone trying to pretend that they weren't Russian. Dean wondered how much input he would have had on the name change. He felt his heart flutter a little bit when he thought about it. 'Misha' was a Russian form of 'Michael,' which just happened to be Dean's middle name. Would Castiel have changed his name on that suggestion? Was it that simple and Dean had simply not figured out the code?

Dean ran an agitated hand through his hair. He wanted to run into the lab where this Professor Collins was being held captive, but that way lie suicide. He wanted to ask if it was really Castiel, and he wondered briefly at his own sanity.

"So what's the plan?" Dean asked. He debated telling Singer that he might be compromised in this operation.

"The offer was to let two military personnel come in and take the three teachers out. Professor Collins may or may not be held with these teachers. Your job is to scope the building the best you can, and to determine if Collins is in it. You will be assigned one member of the United States Army to go in with you. We have tried to choose the most incompetent man that we could find, and you need to act like you're not much better than him. Get the teachers and your lackey out of there without incident, if at all possible. If you can make contact with Collins, you can promise him that you'll be back for him in front of the Russian military. They will then try and move him to a more secure location, and it will be easier to rescue him during a transport mission."

Dean nodded. "When is this op going down?"

"In about two hours. Don't try and be a hero, Dean, follow the plan as close as you can, understand?"

Dean nodded his head again. "If I can return with Collins…"

"He has to be alive," Singer said. "If you can't guarantee that, don't do anything that would put his life in jeopardy. He is the main goal here, not the teachers, not you. The government likes you Dean, but the entire 10th Division would be sacrificed in their eyes before Collins."

Dean nodded. His heart was telling him that Collins was Castiel, and he had learned to trust his heart above all other things in the last ten years. If the government had any idea about Dean's past, they wouldn't have to even bother with the order about Collins's safety.

His Army ally was a smallish man named Chuck Shurley. Chuck kept talking the entire time they drove the van to the compound where the exchange was to take place, but Dean didn't respond or even listen to a single thing that Chuck was saying.

Would Castiel remember him, if this Misha was Castiel? Would he be safe if he recognized Dean? It might be better for him not to be his Castiel, it might keep them safer. And if he was, how would he respond to the fact that Dean had moved on, had gotten married, had kept living? It had felt like such a betrayal, every single time that he did something and Castiel wasn't there to see it or to put his input in. Dean wouldn't trade his kids for the world, but their very existence proved that Dean had not stopped living like he wanted to when Castiel was gone.

The compound was out in the middle of East Berlin. There weren't a lot of cars around the building, but as soon as Dean and Chuck got out of the Hummer they were surrounded by Spetsnaz brandishing their AK47s. Dean and Chuck immediately put their hands up in the air to show that they weren't holding any weapons, and they were ushered into the building quickly.

"I think we're gonna die," Chuck was saying next to Dean, and he wasn't whispering quite as softly as he thought he was.

"Shut up, Chuck," Dean hissed when one of the soldiers looked back at them with a smirk on his face.

"No, I think this was a set-up. I think that they just wanted to kill some Americans and they thought this was a good way to get us in. They're going to make an example of us, I just know it."

"Seriously Chuck, shut up," Dean said.

"Okay, but when they kill us in slow and creative ways, don't say I didn't warn you," Chuck whimpered.

"I'm going to let them kill you," Dean said. "I might even have five bucks in my pocket so that I can pay them to kill you. I'll tell your mama that you died like a little girl."

One of the other soldiers laughed at that, and Dean knew at least they could speak English and had a sense of humor, which may or may not be good for their situation.

"That's just mean, I had heard you were mean…"

"God damn it Chuck, shut the fuck up," Dean tried to kick the soldier.

The room with the teachers was barely furnished. They were all sitting on a couch, and it looked like they had been unharmed. They were nervous, but they were holding it together better than Chuck was, so Dean supposed that was a bonus.

"You have the teachers now," one of the soldiers said in thickly accented English. "You can go."

"I need to see that Professor Collins is safe," Dean said.

The soldier narrowed his eyes at Dean.

"Hey man, it's not like I want to be here. I just have orders, and I need to see that Professor Collins is safe and then I can report back to my CO that you kept your part of the bargain."

The soldier looked at the teachers and Chuck. Dean sighed. "Look, he bothers me too. Why don't you let Chuck take the teachers back to the Humvee, and then I'll go by myself to see Professor Collins."

The soldier nodded. "This is better." He said a lot of words in very fast Russian, and Dean wished not for the first time in his life that he could speak the language. The other soldiers marched Chuck and the teachers out, and the first soldier motioned for Dean to follow him.

"You watch American baseball?" the soldier asked Dean.

"Yeah man, you gotta team?" Dean asked, making conversation.

"I like these Yankees," the soldier said with a smile. "They are the best."

"I don't know about that man," Dean remarked. "I got a thing for the Twins."

"It is unfortunate that you do not have good taste in baseball," the soldier said with a smirk.

"Yeah well, everyone's got an opinion," Dean finished the conversation up as soon as they got to a door in the back of the warehouse.

"Professor Collins was most uncooperative when we first got here. He's being better now, but the worst part is over for him," the soldier said, a little worried.

Dean leveled a gaze at the soldier. "Let me see him," he said.

The soldier looked nervous, Dean knew that he suspected that Dean wasn't what he appeared to be, but he opened the door anyway.

There were three more soldiers standing in the room, and one man tied up in a chair in the corner. Dean wouldn't let himself look at the man, too scared that it wasn't Castiel, and even more scared of what he would do if it was and how he would react if he saw him hurt. He tried convincing himself that he hadn't seen the man for ten years and he had nothing more than fond memories of him, but Dean's heart told him something else. There would be Hell to pay if all the blood on the floor belonged to his Castiel.

"Oh shit," one of the soldiers said in English. His accent wasn't as thick as the others, so Dean looked at him.

"Balthazar," Dean growled.

"Dean Winchester," Balthazar greeted him. There were a few gasps in the room once he had been identified. Well, Dean thought, at least his reputation had gotten around a little. "I should have known you would come."

"Well, I'm just here to check on Professor Collins," Dean shrugged. "No reason that you should have thought I was coming."

"You don't know then?" Balthazar asked.

"Know what?" Dean said, forcing him to keep his eyes on Balthazar's face. He knew already.

"Shit," Balthazar repeated himself. He ran an agitated hand through his hair, and glanced at the man in the corner. "You might as well take him, we'll get him back in the future."

"What?" one of the Spetsnazs asked. "He's one man, we can take on one man…"

"Not this one," Balthazar said. "You've been trained for this; he was born for this. There is a very large difference in your abilities. If we fight him, we'll lose more men than we can afford."

"We can't let him go…" the Spetsnaz protested.

"We can't afford to keep him. You know what it's like fighting against a man defending his home," Balthazar said, looking pissed as Hell. "You want him because our government wants him. This man wants him because he is his home. We ain't tangling with that."

"Fucking Americans," the Spetsnaz cursed. He said some more things in Russian, but Dean had lost his self-control at that point.

Castiel was in the corner, completely unconscious. His face was a bruise, his lip split, his head tilted at an angle. Despite all this, Dean still recognized him. He walked over to him, pulled a hidden knife out of his pants leg, and cut the bindings keeping Castiel in his chair.

"C'mon Cas," Dean whispered. "Let's go home."

Balthazar glared at Dean, who picked Castiel up with a raised eyebrow.

"We done here then?" Dean asked.

Balthazar spoke some words in Russian, and the special operations units of Russia stepped aside. Dean walked back down the long hallway, ignoring the shocked stares of the other soldiers. He carried Castiel out of the building and sat with him in the front of the Hummer, as Chuck stared in disbelief.

"How'd you get him out?" Chuck asked.

"I asked nice and polite," Dean said, pulling his green bandana out of his pocket in order to wipe some of the blood off of Castiel's face. "Let's go before they change their mind."

The teachers in the back seat held each other as Chuck drove off. They stared in confusion as Dean couldn't take his eyes off of who they knew as Professor Collins.

"Maybe that's why he wouldn't give us a second look," Dean heard one of them whisper, and his conscience tugged at him.

"We're going home, Cas," Dean whispered. "You don't ever have to leave me again."

"Dean," Castiel let Dean hear his voice again, but Dean wasn't entirely sure he was conscious. "I knew you'd come for me."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean walked across Harvard Square, having paced the place for almost two hours. He was nervous about going onto MIT's campus, he would admit it. He wanted to go, needed to go, but he couldn't make himself.

He wasn't allowed contact with Professor Collins after that rescue. He had been chewed up one side and down the other, because he wouldn't admit to how he freed 'Misha' from the hostage situation. He didn't think, _I struck fear into the heart of the Spetsnaz who was in charge_ was a valid excuse as he hid a lot of what he could do from the military. So after a week, they just sent him back to America like he had planned.

He didn't talk about what happened with Sam, but Sam knew just by looking at him that something was up. Sam tried to distract him with anecdotes from Harvard, and Raphael had even broken his car on purpose so that Dean would have to fix it. They were both trying to help him through it, but they didn't know what was broken.

His kids were great but didn't require the high levels of concentration that could get his mind off of the fact that Castiel lived just across the river somewhere. Both of his children were extreme introverts, as Sam described them, and they didn't require lots of outside attention to keep themselves occupied, although they did need a good cuddle now and again. Dean figured that was just one of the reasons that made them so perfect.

It had been a month, and there had been no word. Maybe Castiel was pissed at him? It was highly probable, Dean hadn't been to see him yet and he hadn't been able to find him before that. Although, it was strange for Castiel to claim that he knew that Dean would come for him when he was half unconscious.

Dean decided he was done waiting. There was no reason for him and Castiel to not see each other, no reason for them to not at least acknowledge the other's existence. And, if Dean were being completely honest with himself, he wasn't sure he could keep going if he couldn't at least see those damn blue eyes of his one more time.

Dean marched his narrow ass up the stairs to the main administration building of MIT. He knew he stuck out like a sore thumb in his Army fatigues and a green tee-shirt, but not a lot of people noticed his passing. Their heads were stuck in books for the most part, or they looked like their heads wanted to be stuck in books. It was one of the stranger feelings for Dean; he wasn't used to being ignored.

A secretary looked up at him with a smile. She was large and had some of the blackest eyes Dean had ever seen outside of a demon, but she looked pleasant. "Can I help you?"

"I was wondering if I could see Professor Misha Collins?" Dean asked.

"I don't know a Professor Collins right off the top of my head," the secretary said, not knowing that Dean's heart was sinking as she spoke the words.

"He's one of the brain pool," another secretary said behind her. "You just never see him outside of his lab, or when he chooses to teach a class."

"Oh," the first secretary said. "Lemme look up his office number for you," she said, pulling out a huge three-ring binder. "Your accent is kind of cute, you're not from here, are you?"

"No ma'am," Dean said, giving her a great big smile. "I'm from N'awlins."

"Where's that?"

"It's New Orleans," the second secretary said. "They just don't say it correctly. Southerners," the woman scoffed.

Dean sent her a grin, even though he thought about bashing the woman's head in. "We'll learn to talk right one day."

"Doubt it," the second secretary said, but she already was holding out a piece of paper for Dean. "That's his office, his lab, the classes that he's teaching this semester, and his office phone number. You need anything else?"

"No ma'am, thank you kindly," Dean said.

"At least you boys have manners," the woman said. She turned to the first secretary. "Lemme show you how I got that information."

Dean turned and walked out of the office, staring at Professor Collins's schedule. He was listed as having office hours at that time, so he followed the map that the secretary had given him to a large brick building.

The office was pretty easy to find once a person found the building, if one could get around the security guards that seemed to be posted on every single hall. Dean was a little relieved to see them, truth be told, because it was so easy for him to track down where Castiel was. They weren't very effective at deterring Dean from his destination, but at least they could come running if Castiel needed them.

Dean saw the office door was open, and he stood outside of it for a minute listening. Castiel was apparently having a conversation with a student who didn't look like he could be much older than sixteen.

"I don't understand, my roommate told me that I had to turn in a Freshman Thesis…"

"There's no such thing as a Freshman Thesis," Castiel's deep voice rumbled out of the room. Dean smiled to hear it.

"I did all of this work for nothing then?" the boy asked. "God, my roommate is such an asshole."

"I wouldn't say for nothing," Castiel said, "It looks to me like you've redefined aerodynamics. This is amazing work; I would like to show it to some of my former students at Boeing, if you don't mind."

"What? Really?" the boy asked, excitement in his voice.

"I think this is amazing mathematics that you have done here. Would it be okay if I kept it and sent it over? I'm sure if Boeing decides to purchase it, they will pay you a nice sum."

"Yes please, Professor Collins, thank you," the boy said, his voice cracking with excitement.

"Well, go on with you, Satcha. Go tell your roommate that his prank probably just earned you enough money to buy his family farm. What did I tell you about being roommates with people in the Veterinary Science department?"

Satcha left the room, grinning like he had just beat the band. He didn't even notice Dean standing outside the room, he was in such a rush to rub it in his roommate's face.

Dean stuck his head into the office. "You free for a moment, professor?" he asked. He changed his accent to a Yankee one, trying to see if Castiel could figure out it was him.

Castiel looked up only far enough to see Dean's fatigue pants. "I promise you, I am in no danger. You can leave," he turned his back to stare at something on his chalkboard.

Dean took a deep breath, and walked into the office, shutting the door behind him. "I just wanted to check and see if you were okay after your ordeal," Dean said, wincing when he just couldn't keep the South out of his speech pattern for more than one sentence.

Castiel's shoulders hitched at Dean's soft vowels, and Dean could see he was kind of frozen. "I'm fine, soldier," Castiel whispered. "No one has tried to contact me, no one has been following me home at night, and no one has left me crazy messages. You can leave now."

"No, I really can't," Dean said, unable to keep his accent under control. "I can't leave."

Castiel turned around slowly like he was in shock, but Dean felt that everything was all right then because it was _his_ Castiel looking at him, _his_ Castiel's eyes filling up with tears threatening to fall, and when it came right down to it, it was _his_ Castiel.

They might have stared at each other for an eternity, Dean would have never noticed. Castiel had filled out, his body was only slightly thicker, and he needed a shave. His hair still looked like he had just had sex, and his lips were chapped painfully. Dean wanted to run his tongue over them to moisten them up.

"Hey Cas," Dean said weakly.

"Dean," Castiel said, and his voice was broken. He looked completely wrecked, like he wanted to believe that Dean was standing there but he just wouldn't let himself.

Dean stared at Castiel, trying to figure out what to do next, but the man wasn't moving. He wasn't responding at all, except for a few tears that fell down his cheeks. "Well, aren't you going to thank me for getting you out of Russian hands?"

"That was you, then?" Castiel asked him.

"Yeah, you told me you knew I would come for you," Dean said, a little confused.

"I thought that it was a hallucination. I thought that maybe I was seeing things…"

"I'm real," Dean said. He was a little worried about the look on Castiel's face. "Maybe you want to come get a coffee with me? Catch up on old times?"

Castiel blinked once, twice. He cleared his throat. "Yes, yes please. I would like that."

"So let's go," Dean said with a smile.

Castiel swallowed, and then he went through what was obviously a routine for him. He picked up a tattered old trench coat, shook it three times, laid his chalk down on this desk in a careful pattern from largest to smallest, took a sign with some mathematical symbols out from a desk drawer, and then he hung it up before checking to make sure his office was locked three times before he followed Dean out of the building. He very carefully did not step on any cracks in the sidewalk as he walked beside Dean.

A few students called out to Professor Collins, and Castiel waved at them nervously, mumbling to himself in Russian the entire time.

"Cas, you okay man?"

"You should call me Misha when we are in public, Dean," Castiel said to him. "It is safer that way."

"Okay, then, Misha," Dean wrapped his tongue around the unfamiliar syllables. "Are you okay?" he repeated his question.

"It is very… disconcerting to have a break in my routine," Castiel said. "However, I believe that the benefit of the situation should compensate any uncomfortable circumstances that should present itself."

Dean's brow creased, trying to figure out what was going on. He was quiet until they arrived at a small diner on Harvard Square. Dean ordered them two coffees and two pieces of pie, and then he studied his friend.

Castiel didn't look good. Although Dean remembered him as having the smoothest white skin he had ever seen, his face looked ashen, like he had never seen the sun before. His lips and his hands were both chapped, and Dean was starting to suspect that he hadn't had a shower in quite some time. Castiel's hands shook as he spread the white paper napkin onto his lap, rubbing at the creases in the fiber. He had wrinkles on his face that shouldn't have been on the face of any man who only had twenty-six years. Dean had seen veterans from Vietnam who looked very similar, and he had a sinking feeling.

"C-Misha," Dean caught himself, looking around the diner to make sure no one had caught his slip. "You didn't go to Vietnam, did you?"

"No, I have not been to Asia," Castiel said. He took another sip of his coffee, his tongue coming out to chase a few drops of brown liquid off of his lower lip.

"What happened to you since you left?"

"Since I left?" Castiel looked straight into Dean's eyes. He looked confused for a minute. "Since I left Louisiana?"

"Yeah man, I looked for you everywhere. I asked every contact I could if they had seen or heard of you, and no one knew what I was talking about. I almost put out a missing person's report, but Sam told me that I shouldn't in case it drew attention to you…"

"Sam," Castiel breathed. "Is Sam with you?"

"Yes, always. He's attending Harvard Law School now," Dean said with a smile.

"Good," Castiel said, "That's good. Good for Sam."

"I'm a Green Beret in the Army," Dean continued. "But I'm going to work for the FBI in a few months…"

"So it really was you in Germany?" Castiel asked him, his blue eyes lifting from the napkin once again.

"Yes, it was really me," Dean said, feeling so very lost.

"So Louisiana was real?" Castiel asked, but Dean wasn't sure the man was talking to him.

"What happened to you?" Dean could barely control his voice, and he knew he scared the waitress who returned to put two slices of pie in front of them. She gave him a weird look before she scurried off.

"Dean, there are times when I have problems distinguishing reality from a very detailed fantasy life," Castiel said, and his face turned red and he looked so embarrassed that Dean physically hurt for him.

Dean pushed his plate of pie away from himself, no longer hungry. "Cas, tell me what happened." It was no longer a request, but a simple quiet demand.

Castiel looked up at that name, suddenly nervous again. "Dean, you can't call me that anymore."

"Goddamn it, you're going to tell me so help me God," Dean said, his head cocking a little and he knew his temper was getting the better of him.

"Dean," Castiel whimpered, "please don't get angry Dean, I can't handle it if you get angry…"

"Let's go," Dean said, fishing his wallet out of his back pocket and leaving a five dollar bill on the table. "C'mon, we're going to my house, now. You can't handle being in public? Fine, I'm taking you somewhere safe. Let's go."

Castiel simply obeyed, shuffling around in his huge trench coat that had to be about thirty sizes too big for him. He was shaking really badly and all Dean wanted to do was wrap him up in his arms and promise him that everything would be okay, but he had to find out what happened first.

"I think I want to go home, Dean," Castiel whispered to him as they were walking back to the house that Raphael and Sam had picked out.

"We are, Cas," Dean said, giving up totally and completely on calling him Misha. It wasn't going to work, so he might as well shoot the dead horse. It wasn't like Balthazar didn't know that they were together again, anyway. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his fatigues to prevent himself from reaching over and pulling Castiel into his arms. It was like torture, complete and total torture.

Castiel stared at the brick house in front of him, and Dean wondered if he was going to cry again before he followed him up the front steps.

"Dean," Sam greeted him at the door, "I was wondering where you went…" Sam's eyes grew larger than Dean had ever seen them when he saw Castiel behind him. "Cas," Sam said, wrapping the tiny man up in his huge arms.

Castiel clung to Sam's body for a moment too long, and Dean was instantly jealous that Sam got hugs and he didn't. He didn't hear Sam screaming his fool head off for Raphael, who came running and then smiled huge when he saw Castiel, and he got Castiel hugs, too. How was that fair? What did a man have to do to get hugs from the man he had pulled out of a pit of Spetsnaz?

Dean kept a straight face though, and he followed everyone else into the living room.

Castiel was instantly relaxed around everyone, his body seeming to lose all the tension that it held while they were in public now that he was surrounded by Dean's family. Dean took the opportunity to check the house's locks and windows, checking the street outside for signs that anyone would have followed them back to his home. He didn't see anyone, but from Castiel's behavior earlier he wouldn't swear that his Castiel wasn't in trouble. His Cas wasn't the type to freak out over nothing, and something bad had happened. Dean didn't know what it was, but he was going to make damn sure that nothing ever scared his baby that bad again.

"Daddy?" Ben poked his head out from the balcony upstairs. "Who's here?"

"An old friend, Ben," Dean whispered to his son. "You wanna come meet him?"

Ben grinned, a delighted look on his face. Often, old friends of his daddy had candy in their pockets. Ben pulled his little sister out of her room, and she was paint splattered in a yellow sun dress, her dark blond hair hiding her almost black eyes. Ben had his mother's black hair and Dean's green eyes, and Dean was suddenly nervous to introduce them to Castiel. It wasn't that he was ashamed of his children, it was just that they were proof that Dean had chosen to keep living after Castiel was taken away from him.

The two children clattered down the stairs, holding each other's hands. Dean knew that they were using their company manners, because it wasn't like Lissa couldn't kick Ben's ass if he got too rough with her. His children consistently amused him with how often they resembled wild animals instead of small humans.

Castiel saw them, and Dean knew that he understood that they were Dean's children by the look in his eyes as he looked from them to Dean.

"Castiel, this is Ben and Lissa, kids, this is your daddy's old friend Castiel," Dean said, his voice thick. Sam and Raphael both felt a little uncomfortable, studying Castiel's shocked face.

"Castiel?" Ben asked, a delighted grin appearing on his face, "Like my middle name?"

Dean swallowed. "Yeah Ben, just like your middle name," Dean nodded his head, meeting Castiel's very wide blue eyes.

"We must be special friends then," Ben said, going over to sit next to his new best friend and grinning up at him like he invented baseball and rocket ships.

"We must be," Castiel agreed, careful not to harm these short human beings.

Lissa was a lot more shy than her older brother, and she wrapped her arms around Dean's leg and stared at the stranger on the couch.

Castiel took a deep breath and then looked around the room. "So where is their mother?"

Dean opened his mouth to explain, but Ben beat him to it. "She's with the angels." Ben stared at Castiel. "You look kind of like the angel daddy said was taking care of mommy," Ben pointed to Castiel's eyes. "You have eyes just like daddy said. Are you daddy's angel?"

Dean felt his face get so hot it hurt, and Sam started laughing at him. "Dude, your face is so red."

"Shut up, Sammy," Dean scolded him. "Kids, you've met my friend, now it's time for you to get washed up for supper. Lissa, try and get as much paint out of your hair as you can, will you?"

Ben dragged his little sister back up the stairs, vaguely disappointed that there was no candy.

"It's good," Castiel broke the silence. "It's good that you got married…"

"It doesn't matter," Dean said, surprising Sam and Raphael. "We need to talk about what happened to you."

**A/N: Sorry about stopping it here, but I try and keep myself to 3,000 words a chapter and it keeps not ending so I have to force a stop. It helps my OCD tendencies to maintain a consistent word count and I freak out if I stray too much.**

**The story about the Freshmen Thesis at MIT is completely and totally true. The student sold it to Boeing for a quarter of a million dollars. It isn't that well known, but I grew up hearing about it because my dad was the asshole roommate that lied to Satcha. Satcha made enough money to bring his entire family over from India and he set them up well, and then when he graduated he got a job with Boeing (after he was the best man at my parent's wedding).**


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel sat on the couch, staring at the Winchester boys and Raphael. Dean could tell he was more than a little unnerved, although he couldn't tell exactly why. Castiel's long fingers drifted over the patterns in the couch upholstery, spreading tingles up and down Dean's spine. He could remember when Castiel had felt his skin in the same way: exploring, tentative, with the same amount of concentration.

"I started college in 1960," Castiel said after a while.

"What? You were supposed to start the same year that Raphael and I did," Dean said, confused.

"I… don't really want to talk about it much," Castiel mumbled. "There were things… reasons why I did not go straight to college."

Sam gave Dean the _shut up_ look, "Okay, what happened next?"

"I tested out of most of my credits. I graduated with my doctorate in five years," Castiel took a deep breath, "And ever since then I simply worked at the college."

Dean stared at him. "That's it?"

"Yes," Castiel insisted, shutting his eyes against the obvious lie.

Dean was quiet for a while. "Where are you living now?"

"I've got an apartment on campus," Castiel told him.

"You live by yourself?" Dean tried to clarify.

"Yes," Castiel looked confused for a moment.

"Okay, you'll move in with us," Dean decided. Sam and Raphael didn't look surprised in the least, as if that was the most logical course of action.

Castiel frowned, "Why would you want me to live with you?"

"You belong with us," Sam said. "We've been trying to find you for ten years. We've searched everywhere for you. Dean promised to take care of you, remember? He made me swear to take care of you if he couldn't. You're family."

Castiel's eyes immediately started watering. "Family?"

"Yes," Raphael said. "There are certain things that happen that make people family. Our families died together, so that means we stick together."

Castiel rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He stared at the floor for a while, and then he whispered, "Okay."

"Great," Dean said. "We'll start moving you in tomorrow. Right now, we have some hungry mouths to feed." Dean left the room to walk to the foot of the staircase. "Kids!" he yelled, and Sam rolled his eyes. "Get yourselves down here for some grub."

Castiel had to smile as it sounded like a herd of elephants had been let loose upstairs as the form of two kids who were barely five feet tall clattered their way down the hall and the staircase. The amount of noise they made let him know that they were definitely their father's children.

Dean was a little worried about dinner. He was used to the random topics of conversation, the instinctual dodging of airborne peas flying in the general direction from one sibling to another, the ability of Sam and Raphael to change the subject twenty times in any given five minutes, Raphael's gossip from the newspaper he worked at, Sam's complaints about the speed and implementation of Civil Rights decisions, and his own sometimes not polite-for-the-dinner-table conversation of corpses. He worried that Castiel might have problems with the chaos that the Winchesters called the dinner table, but he forgot how much Castiel would relax in their presence. He actually had to snicker a time or two when his kids were impressed how Castiel could catch their peas out of the air and then force them to eat their vegetables with one puppy-eyed look in their direction.

Clean up was another family affair, and Dean had to yell at the kids to not run with plates and knives and forks in their hands, and Castiel again fit right in washing the dishes while Dean dried and put the plates away as Sam and Raphael put the uneaten food up for storage. It was as if he had never left them behind, and Dean felt more at peace with himself because of this than he had in a long time.

Dean had to leave Castiel with his brother and Raphael for a few minutes while he did the bath and bedtime story routine with his kids. They kept trying to ask him questions about Cas, and Dean did what he could to answer them, but it felt too private to share with them so he distracted them every chance he got. His kids were hard headed when they got curious though, so Dean was left silent a lot until they got the picture that daddy wasn't going to spill the beans on Castiel.

The kids still shared a room together, because they hadn't been able to be separated too long since Lisa had died. They got upset and fussy when they didn't know where the other one was, and Dean didn't know how to get them out of that. He was still kind of the same way with Sam, so he wondered if that was just a family trait. With them being brother and sister that was soon going to give way to awkwardness though, so he was going to have to figure out how to get them to stop sharing a room soon.

Dean wandered back downstairs to the living room, where he found Castiel sitting by himself in front of the fireplace. He stared at his former lover for a long time, and then went and sat down next to him. "How much stuff do you have to move tomorrow?"

"Nothing big. The apartment is furnished, so I'll just move my books and my clothing and a few knick-knacks that I've collected." Castiel wouldn't look over at Dean, but Dean understood why. He was protecting himself, and Dean was loathe to push for answers. Sometimes admitting that something happened would take away all ability for a person to pretend it never happened.

"It shouldn't take too long then," Dean said. "You can have the guest bedroom then. It's across the hall from mine, and you'll have your own bathroom."

"Where do Raphael and Sam sleep?" Castiel wanted to know.

"There are some bedrooms on the other side of the kitchen. They wanted as far away from the kids as possible when they moved in. Sometimes they're hard to control when they get stubborn about something. They're both night owls anyway, they'd keep the kids up if they stayed near them."

"What did you do with them while you were in the Army?" Castiel wanted to know.

"There's this woman who stayed with them. Nice lady by the name of Meg. Lissa swears she wants me to marry her."

Castiel nodded his head as if that were a logical request. "It would be good for children to have a mother."

"I'm not getting married again. It was a mistake to do it the first time, I'm not going to repeat it even if it gives my kids a mother," Dean stared into the fire.

"You weren't in love with her?" Castiel asked.

"No. I loved her, don't get me wrong, but it was nothing like… She was kind and beautiful and she kept a clean house. I wasn't in love with her," Dean sounded sad when he said this, like he was guilty of something that Castiel might never understand.

Dean knew that Castiel wouldn't understand, either. He wasn't the type to give in on something that he knew was wrong, he would have stuck to his guns and waited for Dean. Exactly like he had done, like Dean should have done but hadn't and ruined their chance instead.

"I'm tired Dean," Castiel said. "I think I want to go to bed. I have an early class in the morning."

"Sure. Let me get you some clothing to sleep in," Dean said as if he weren't just thinking the world's worst thoughts about himself.

He had Castiel follow him up the stairs and showed him the room where he would be sleeping, and then he went to his room to get some clothing for him to sleep in. He looked at the clean pajamas in his hand and then glanced over at the clothing he had worn the night before. He quickly folded them up like they were clean, and he closed his eyes at the territorial instinct he had to cover Castiel in his own scent. He carried the dirty pajamas over to Castiel's room anyway.

"Cas, these were the cleanest ones I had, man…" Dean lied, his voice breaking off when he saw Castiel without his shirt on, wiping off the day's dirt with a washcloth.

It wasn't that Castiel had gotten more beautiful, that his shoulders had filled out and his waist was still pleasantly narrow. It wasn't that his hipbones didn't protrude from smooth skin in tempting mounds above his khaki pants, or that his chest had just the right amount of hair. It wasn't even that his arms had shocking muscles and that his hands were still long and lovely that had Dean surging across the room in a panic.

There were scars. There were so many scars that Dean wasn't sure what he should be doing but his hands were tracing over the paler lines in Castiel's flesh.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Castiel demanded, trying to cover himself with his shirt. "I didn't know you were coming back, stop it."

"What happened Cas?" Dean demanded, his temper flaring at the thought that anyone would have thought it was okay for them to touch his Castiel like this. "What the fuck happened?"

"Quiet, you'll wake your children," Castiel whispered, taking the soft clothing that Dean had thrown on his bed in his mad scramble to get closer to Castiel's side. "I wasn't going to tell you yet." He slipped on Dean's tee-shirt over his head, only pausing slightly when his eyes widened at the smell. Dean hoped it didn't stink, but the look of comfort on Castiel's face distracted him.

"What happened?" Dean repeated himself.

Castiel glared at him, and then gestured for Dean to sit down on the bed first. "They wanted to know why the Russian government wanted me so badly," he started explaining.

"Who wanted to know?" Dean demanded.

"Some scientists at a place called Quantico," Castiel explained.

"FBI Headquarters?" Dean whispered.

"Yes. I lived there for three years after I left you. I think it was three years. Sometimes it gets confusing…" Castiel said, his face looking utterly hopeless.

"Damn it Cas, is that why we couldn't find you?"

"I escaped, and they had taken so many samples that indicated that I was nothing but human except for my learning capacity, which apparently is limitless, but I escaped and the first thing I did was call you. But you weren't home, and Uriel said that you hadn't been home in over a year, so I hung up. I wanted to call back, but they caught me. They said that they realized they couldn't keep me locked up just 'cause my brain was weird, so they sent me to MIT. A full ride scholarship, just because they kept doing tests on me for three years," Castiel didn't sound scornful or sarcastic. He was just stating facts that seemed to hold little to no interest to him.

Dean was familiar with that diversionary tactic, too. "Cas, it looks like they cut into you…"

"Sometimes they did," Cas said as if it were of no import.

"I'm so sorry Cas," Dean said, a little surprised that he was crying. "I'm so sorry that I wasn't there to protect you. I'm so sorry that I couldn't help you…"

"I did not expect a seventeen year old boy to take on the United States Government," Castiel said. "I did not expect you to rescue me."

"Liar," Dean hissed. "You told me when I got you out of East Berlin that you knew I would rescue you. You weren't just talking about that time, were you?"

Castiel remained silent, and he went over to push the curtains aside so that he could stare out the window. "It's late Dean, I need my sleep. I have a class to teach tomorrow…"

"Cas, I'm never going to let anyone take you away from me again, I swear this to you…"

"You won't be able to protect me, Dean," Castiel said, turning to face him. "No one can protect me, I can't even protect myself. I don't care if they take me, everyone thinks that they can do it and when they do they think they can do whatever they want with me. My opinion about the matter doesn't quantify in their analysis, so I'm sure that yours doesn't either. You should probably let me stay by myself, because when they come to take me your children can't be hurt."

Dean walked over to Cas, wrapping his arms around him. "I don't care what it takes, I'll protect you. I shouldn't have ever let you go, I should have woken up when you left my bed that morning. Do you have any idea how many times I went over that morning in my head? You were gone, I woke up and I was in such a panic, thinking that you were scared about what we had done or that you were too upset about your mother to even look at me. I find out instead that my own father sent you away for your safety, and I kept telling myself that it was for your safety, but now I find out you were being tortured…"

Dean had no idea if he was making sense anymore, but Castiel was shushing him and holding him tight while he cried. Dean thought that it was ridiculous that what Castiel had been through hurt him more than it had Castiel, but it made sense to him. His heart told him that he had never stopped loving this man so it made sense for him to hurt for his pain.

Castiel ran his fingers through Dean's hair, and it felt good to be comforted for once rather than always comforting. Castiel was taking care of him, leading him over to the guest bed and laying down next to him, holding him in his arms so that Dean could rest his head on Castiel's chest.

"I feel like I should be taking care of you, now that I know you've been a government research project…"

"It was years ago, Dean. I'm not sure I'd be reacting much better than you if roles had been reversed," Castiel said, kissing Dean's forehead and holding him tightly. "Besides, half of these are from Balthazar, you know that."

"Not the scars," Dean said. "I know the difference between a fresh scar and an old one."

"Yes well, not all of these are from the government."

"Why would Balthazar cut you up?" Dean asked him.

"He kept saying that he needed to make me remember who I was, and that he thought that pain might be a good instigator."

"Who you are? What does that mean?" Dean asked him.

"I have no idea. The experiment was a failure, obviously." Castiel shrugged. "It was like Balthazar was realizing it too, towards the end. He stopped hours before you got there, said they were going to have to come up with another tactic. It was about then that I started losing consciousness, and I thought that I was hallucinating again when you came."

"Again?" Dean asked, his conscience striking him hard. He already knew the answer, he was just waiting for Castiel to turn the knife.

"I used to hallucinate about you a lot," Castiel admitted. "I told the doctors at the center that you were going to come for me, that you were going to hurt them for what they were doing to me, and I guess eventually I started seeing you whenever they stopped their tests."

"Fuck," Dean said. He didn't know what else to say. "I would have, I wanted to…"

"I know Dean," Castiel was the one soothing him, and wasn't that the most fucked up thing in Dean's mind at that point. "I know."

"You have to understand, this thing with Lisa…" Dean whispered.

"I don't need to understand," Castiel said, but his body language was giving away his lie again, Dean could tell by the way that he pulled away from him incrementally.

"Dad wanted grandchildren, and he was scared I wouldn't come back after I got drafted. I was done with college so I married Lisa to make him happy. She had been a friend from college. We had kids… and then I was put in Special Forces instead of being sent to Vietnam. She knew about you, Cas. She said that she was getting married because her mom wanted her to, also…"

"That is fucked up," Cas said. "The fact that you two would both do that, knowing… that is fucked up."

"Well, the longer you stayed away… I wasn't in the best frame of mind, Cas. I thought that I should keep living even though you had disappeared."

"I didn't mean to…"

"I know that now," Dean said. "And I didn't mean to stop looking… it's just… ten years… and you called Uriel the night before my wedding…"

"That was the night before your wedding?" Castiel asked.

"He didn't tell me until after we got back from our honeymoon…"

"Jesus, Dean," Castiel said. "I broke out the night before your wedding. I must have known instinctually…"

"Cas," Dean leaned up to touch his face, to run his hands over the new worry lines and wrinkles at the edges of his eyes. "Cas, it feels like I've never been apart from you."

Castiel reluctantly pulled Dean's hand away from his face. "But we have, and we've changed. We need to make sure that we're friends first, Dean…"

"I know," Dean said, but his body and his heart protested. "I know, but…"

Castiel softly kissed Dean's lips, and then he pulled away from him. "Good night, Dean."

**A/N: As soon as life quits throwing curveballs at me, this will go back to regular updates, okay? Sorry this one took so long!**


	4. Chapter 4

Dean had never been the type to just fall asleep when it got dark and everyone else was in bed. Too many years of hunting with his dad, knowing what was really out there, worrying about his inability to find the love of his life, and military training prevented him from just falling comfortably on his bed. Dean knew one of those issues was solved, but the others kept him tossing and turning in his bed, where he slept alone even though…

Dean sighed, kicking the covers back and sliding into a pair of pajama pants once he stood up. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, telling his body that he was tired and that he just needed to go to sleep, but his body didn't care in the least. So Dean walked down the stairs and began one of his failsafe falling asleep routines.

He checked the windows and the doors on the ground floor. He moved the curtains so that he could stare at the street and make sure that no one was standing there. He made sure there was a bowl of salt next to the stove and there was a supply of silver bullets in the gun hidden next to the fireplace. He checked all the Devil's Traps that were placed throughout the house, and checked again that the holy water hadn't evaporated out of the vases that were decorating most of the house. He looked under the pictures decorating the walls to see that none of the various protection symbols had been marred by insects or rodents, although he knew his house didn't have any of them. Dean made sure that there was enough salt in the pantry for emergencies, and there were at least fifty rock salt bullets in the closet.

That was fine, but he felt uneasy. Dean wasn't one to shrug off his feelings often, although sometimes he ignored it for one reason or another, so he started through his routine again to make sure that he hadn't missed anything.

He stared harder out the windows, and he saw someone walking down the street away from his house. The man was wearing a hat and a jacket, so there wasn't anything very singular about him that would allow Dean to identify him. It didn't matter, Dean tried to tell himself because he obviously wasn't thinking about Dean or his house and was probably out for a stroll because he couldn't sleep, just like Dean couldn't sleep.

"Insomniacs of the world, unite," Dean whispered before he gave up and went back to his room to lay down again.

It took a while, but he finally drifted off to sleep. It turned out to be a pointless exercise, because it was only thirty minutes later that Ben and Lissa climbed into bed with him, falling asleep quickly and jabbing him with pointy elbows and sharp kicks to his shins. He pulled them in close to better regulate their nighttime movements, and waited for the sun to rise.

Coffee was possibly the only thing that could save him that morning, and he stared uncomfortably at the breakfast in front of him. He was more relaxed now that he knew where all of his family was and that they were all under one roof, except for his dad and Uriel. He figured that it would be okay though, because he knew they could take care of themselves.

Castiel went to work and Dean took his kids to school before he stopped by the local FBI offices. There was so much paperwork that he had to fill out, and he questioned why he was doing it. He knew where Castiel was, so his reason for joining the FBI was moot. It was a job though, and he didn't feel like resigning with the United States Army, especially when it looked like this Cold War was never going to end and there was a possibility that the United States would never pull out of Vietnam.

He passed some hippies on his way home, protesting the war and begging people to love each other and give peace a chance. He wished he wasn't wearing his fatigues, because they called him a baby killer and a murderer. He didn't feel like explaining he hadn't even been to Vietnam and he was a good part of the reason that they weren't fighting Russia at that point, too. It felt like it was just too much effort, and while he would have enjoyed punching a hippie out he just didn't have the energy.

Sam and Raphael were away from the house for lunch, and Dean enjoyed the few moments of quiet in his house. He fell asleep for fifteen minutes, but he woke up in time to go get Lissa out of her Kindergarten class.

Lissa really hated school already. She was painfully shy, and being around all of the other children gave her anxiety. Dean talked to her softly in his car, a brand new Impala that had come off the lot just that year, but she was unresponsive. He worried about his little girl, worried that he would never be a good enough father for her. She deserved so much more and he just couldn't give it to her.

Before he pulled out of the parking lot Lissa's teacher knocked on the door.

"Miss Missouri," Dean greeted the woman.

"Dean," the kind woman said. "We need to talk about Lissa," she glanced in the car for a moment to stare at the little girl, who was studying her Mary Jane shoes with a fixed glance.

Dean got out of the car after rolling the windows down, and he leaned up against it. "Is she causing problems?"

"No," Miss Missouri said, "That's kind of the problem."

"What?" Dean asked.

"Children get into mischief all the time, Dean. They do small things wrong, get excited and have problems controlling themselves, and it's good for them to learn that there are consequences to their actions. Has Lissa ever done anything wrong at home?"

"She gets paint in her hair," Dean said. "She runs in the house, and she fights with her brother."

"Lissa is very uncomfortable in class. It's halfway through the school year and she has yet to speak a single word. Her writing skills are far above average, but she refuses to speak even when she is directly addressed. I am worried about her ability to operate in school, and until today I was going to recommend her to stay another year in Kindergarten."

"She is just fine, she's shy," Dean said. "But what changed today?"

"First of all, she isn't fine; she isn't developing socially, Dean," Miss Missouri said. "She has no friends, and she will not talk to her teachers. She has to be able to do this in order for her to pass on to the next grade."

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. "She lost her mother, and I was gone for such a long time with the Army. Don't make a decision until she can adjust…"

"Today was the first day that she spoke to me," Miss Missouri said. "She said an angel moved in with you last night."

Dean looked up at Miss Missouri, and then glanced at Lissa. "One of my old friends moved in with us last night…"

Miss Missouri nodded her head. "Let's see what kind of effect your… friend has on her. I won't make any decision permanent until I see if she can change. You might want to explain to her that your friend is not an angel, but do it slowly, okay?"

Dean nodded. "Thank you," he said.

"Also, you might find it prudent to let her spend more time with your friend. If he can affect this kind of change to her behavior, I would like to see what his influence is capable of in the long run."

Dean nodded again. "Thank you, Miss Missouri."

Miss Missouri nodded, and then she stuck her head in Dean's car. "Lissa, you have a nice day, okay?"

Lissa nodded silently, not looking up at Miss Missouri at all. Dean's heart twisted that his little girl was so closed off, and he worried some more about her.

Dean drove home, glancing out of the corner of his eye at his daughter. She never did really talk much, preferring to keep to herself. She didn't even really babble when she was a baby, and Dean wondered if that was a sign that he should have been paying closer attention. He wondered if he was just simply a bad parent, for being thankful that she had been quiet and obedient unless Ben was involved. How could he have not noticed that she was having problems?

Dean pulled her little pink book bag out of the back of the car and held her hand as he walked up the front steps of the huge house that Sam and Raphael had picked out. He pulled his keys out, and he noticed again that there was the same man walking down the street, his back turned to Dean.

Dean shrugged again, preoccupied with Lissa and getting her changed out of her school clothing into jeans and a tee-shirt. "I wish I could wear this to school, daddy," Lissa whispered quietly. "I don't like my dresses. Ben never has to wear dresses."

Dean blinked slowly. "You want to wear your jeans and tee-shirts to school?"

"Yes, I hate it when people stare at my legs," Lissa whispered.

"You have beautiful legs, honey," Dean told his daughter. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her legs that Dean could see, but he was her father so what did he know? "They're going to look just like mommy's when you get older. Look at my legs," Dean said, pulling up a pant leg. "I've got bow legs and knobby knees," he didn't really, but he thought it would make her laugh.

It did, and Dean's heart warmed to the sound of his daughter's giggles. He took her down the steps into the kitchen so he could fix her a snack, and he was greeted with the sight of Castiel, who was lugging in a box of books.

Dean quickly took the box out of Castiel's hands, and he was briefly surprised at how heavy it was and how Castiel hadn't seemed to be struggling with the weight at all. "What do you have in here, bricks?" Dean asked.

Lissa giggled some more, and she smiled shyly at Castiel.

"Hello Lissa," Castiel said. "What did you learn in school today?"

"Nothing good," Lissa said, pulling Castiel's hand so that he would come sit with her as Dean served them both cookies and milk. "I want to learn about machines, but we had to learn about a boy and a girl and how they went up a hill to get water. I thought it was stupid, and that I should design a machine to do that job. I would put it on tracks like a train, and I would have to engineer some sort of pulley system in order for the bucket to descend and ascend, and the robot could only go in two ways, but then the teacher said that we had to copy the stupid poem and all I wanted to do was draw my machine."

"That sounds fascinating," Castiel said. "Although it makes me wonder how you are related to your father…"

"She gets her brains from her mother. Lisa was good at math," Dean shrugged.

"Well, your dad was always good with engines," Castiel shrugged. "Perhaps you would like to sketch out your machine for me to look at? I would like to see the design in your head."

Lissa smiled brightly and took a huge bite of her cookie before drinking some of her milk. Dean was glad that Castiel seemed to know what to say, because Dean was so worried about Lissa that it was distracting him from saying what he needed to say to her about his conversation with Miss Missouri. It occurred to him that this was the most that Lissa had said in his presence since he had returned from Germany.

Lissa quickly finished her snack, and then she hugged Castiel and kissed his cheek. "I'm going to make you a drawing."

Castiel smiled at her, and then looked up at Dean when she had left the room. "She's brilliant."

"I know," Dean said, taking Lissa's chair next to Castiel. "Her teacher is worried that she isn't talking to anyone in class."

"She probably doesn't know what to say. It seems to me that she is probably on another level than children her own age."

Dean groaned, "It's just like when Sammy and I were kids. We never knew what to say when they would talk about ghost stories. I've tried to keep them away from that so it would be easier for them to socialize, but apparently the Winchester family will never fit in well at school. Miss Missouri, her teacher, has said that she is thinking about holding Lissa back this year."

"I don't see how that would be helpful. I wonder if you put her in a more advanced class if it wouldn't help her more. Or I could see about getting her into one of the Harvard elementary schools, where they have psychologists who teach special children like her."

Dean looked over at Castiel. "You would do that?"

"I thought you said I was family?" Castiel asked him. "Isn't this something that one does for family?"

Dean stared at Castiel, and what he felt wasn't just simple lust. "Cas…"

Of course, they were interrupted by Sam and Ben, coming into the kitchen demanding cookies and milk. Dean rolled his eyes and prepared the snacks for his brother and his son, who was begging Dean to sign him up for Little League baseball that all of his friends were participating in.

They spent a lot of that afternoon going back and forth between Castiel's apartment and their home, moving and packing things up. Castiel was filling out the paperwork he needed to break his lease, and he was in and out of the college's main office filling out forms for his change of address. Their last stop on the way home was at the post office, and Castiel looked pleased that he was trading his Post Office box for a street address.

They carried Castiel's things upstairs and then settled into the living room for a short rest. It wasn't much later before Raphael came home, placing his briefcase by the door and taking off his suit jacket. He had stories to share, and Dean took the opportunity to excuse himself and go make dinner.

He knew that it was strange that he had taken over his mother's and Anna's place in the home, but he knew that his family needed some sort of continuity to keep themselves straight. He wondered if there was a way to hire someone to come in and help with the kids and the food, and he wondered if their budget could handle that. It would become difficult for him to manage once his duties with the FBI started taking precedence, and both of his children were far too young to take over the household duties. Everyone else was already terribly busy with their jobs, and Dean figured that he could spend his extra income on hiring someone else.

Dinner was a tiny bit more civil with Castiel in the house. His kids were less likely to throw random vegetables at each other, and the conversation stuck to more acceptable dinner topics. Castiel was a good influence on them, Dean decided with a smile.

They cleared the table and cleaned up together, joking and smiling, and his family retired to their rooms for the evening. Castiel said he wanted to put his things up, and Dean nodded. He finished tying up the trash bags and realized that he was going to have to take them out for the garbage man in the morning.

He walked out, enjoying the night sky. This was good, he decided. He could definitely spend his life with his family, just like this, and he would be happy forever. He still wanted Castiel, but that would come with time and patience. Dean could finally afford both, but he thought that he might torture Cas a little before he seduced him. Maybe he would walk around the house without his shirt on or let Cas catch him in his shower a few times before he seduced the other man. The entire prospect of sharing a bed, of having the ability to share a bed, every night for the rest of his life was wonderful.

Of course, it was then that Dean saw the man who had been wandering outside of his house again. Dean squinted his eyes, thinking that it might be time to go get some eyeglasses, when he finally realized who that other man was.

"Balthazar," Dean growled, and he ran over to confront him.

"Dean Winchester," Balthazar grinned at him, "I was waiting for you to figure out who I was."

"You aren't taking him again," Dean said. "Every time you show up Castiel gets taken…"

"Oh, we're not here for Castiel," Balthazar shook his head at him like he was a sad, stupid man. "It won't do us any good to capture him again."

"What? If you come anywhere near my family… wait, what do you mean 'we?'"

"I'm not planning on going anywhere near your family, Dean. And by 'we,' I am only referring to the men that I have contracted to come and capture you."

Dean felt the world go black at that point, too quickly for him to call out for Cas or his brother or his cousin. _At least they're not coming for my family_, Dean thought to himself before he surrendered to oblivion.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean opened his eyes, but he didn't see anything at all. He scrunched up his nose, and he realized he had some sort of cloth tied around his head. He tried to move one of his arms to move the cloth, but he sighed when he realized that he was tied up.

His arms were stretched out along some kind of board, and his feet were attached to another board. He kind of felt like Jesus on the cross, and he tried to wiggle around a little to see if there was any way out of this predicament.

"It won't help," Balthazar's voice said from somewhere slightly to Dean's left. "You'll be stuck for a little while, yet. Although, I have to say, I like the view."

Dean wiggled around a little more, realizing that the reason he knew he was tied to board was because he was naked. "This is kind of kinky," he said.

"Yes, well, I'm sure it will make Castiel angrier to see you here like this in front of us."

"I've always wanted to be crucified naked in front of a bunch of people I couldn't see," Dean said. "Can we get on with it? I'm not much for bonding with my torturers."

"So impatient. That's a bad sign for Castiel, he deserves a more giving bed partner," Balthazar sighed. Dean heard something being moved around: the sound of leather and the chink-chink of metal on metal. "I'm pulling out a set of knives right now called _flechettes_, although most people think that they're only a projectile weapon they can be used for other things. _Flechettes_ are fascinating because they are so sharp you cannot feel them cutting you, although the pain that comes after your skin starts parting is exquisite. I will be cutting you with these until Castiel finds us. You should be screaming for me to stop at that point."

"So this isn't about hurting me, this is about hurting Castiel…" Dean asked.

"In part. I have no desire to hurt you, really, you're just… baggage that Castiel cannot rid himself of. He always seeks you out, in every life that he has ever lived. I have never understood this, no matter how many times it has happened. You're just a human, and he just can't seem to stay away from you."

"Cas is human," Dean said. "All of his tests said so."

"Of course he's a human, those fucking Hassidics put him in a human body. He had to shut himself off so that he wouldn't destroy the child, he has this sense of nobility, he thinks that humans are to be protected," Balthazar sneered. "Father's creations, works of art…"

Dean felt a line being drawn down the center of his thigh. It kind of felt like a wet marker being dragged over his skin, but then the pain blossomed in its wake. Dean bit his lip so that he wouldn't call out.

"You don't have to hold back. Your screams will not bother me."

"You're saying that Castiel is what, if not a human?" Dean asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" Balthazar asked him. "He's an angel wearing a meat suit."

"That's impossible," Dean protested.

"Entirely possible. There are certain Jewish sects that can control the angels. Holy men, they consider themselves. It isn't like they've ever commanded us to do God's work. Humans are so selfish. They destroy each other and ask, 'Why does God let this happen?' when in reality, it happens because they refuse to obey His direct orders. Did you know that the word 'love' appears more times in the Bible than any other word, Dean?"

There were three more lines being drawn on his body, and Dean was biting his lip and bracing himself against the pain that was sure to follow. It did, and it exploded bright red in his head before it abated enough to let him think again. "I haven't really read the book, to be honest with you," Dean said.

"Humans think they concentrate on the commandments but they never really listen to a single one of them. In every story, God shows his love, but they think that the Bible consists only of war and destruction. The bravest person in the entire book is a whore, one who lets an invading army into the walled city so that they can carry out God's plan. The most loving person in the whole book is a girl who follows her mother-in-law to a strange country so that she can take care of her after her husband died. The greatest king messes up so many times it's an atrocity, but God loves him enough to give his son one request, and is pleased when the man asks for wisdom but then completely screws up again. Yet humans can only concentrate on the fact that God had us destroy a city because they almost raped two angels. They call it a reason to hate homosexuals, but in reality it's a lesson to not rape perfect strangers. But do they blame man for that? No, they blame God, because they have no fear of Him punishing them until it is too late. If they blamed man they would have to accept their own responsibility in doing nothing to stop those horrible things from happening…" Balthazar kept talking, drawing lines all across Dean's body.

"How did they convince an angel to get into a child's body?" Dean grunted, trying to stay in the moment so that when Castiel did show up he wouldn't become angry.

"Castiel was the only one they could capture and command. Castiel sacrificed himself to save the rest of our fathers from being captured, and when he entered the body of the human child, he destroyed the books who had the knowledge to command us, and the government destroyed the men with that knowledge, scared of Castiel's power. The rest of the angels, they had already brought them to Earth and captured some of our father's DNA, combining it with human DNA to make us into these shells. I am nowhere near as powerful as Castiel in this form, although I have memories of my father. My father, Dean, he is an angel. Castiel's father is God. Do you see the power difference? We need Castiel to remember who he is."

"How is torturing me going to remind Castiel of who he is?" Dean asked. He was panting against the pain at this point, and he could feel his body temperature dropping as blood poured out of his wounds.

"See, the idea came to me when your mothers died," Balthazar explained, pulling back from cutting more stripes into Dean's skin. "I thought that little incident would make Castiel lose it, but you were right there taking care of him. It was quite a disappointment," Balthazar stepped back and let Dean have a break from the pain, although it stayed fresh and bright in his mind.

"You killed our mothers?" Dean asked, feeling his temper spiking.

"Of course not; I haven't any desire to murder defenseless women, don't be absurd. That was Azazel, he hates our dear little Castiel with a passion," Balthazar said. "Azazel hates that Castiel is constantly interfering with you humans, helping you fight against demons and keeping Lucifer at bay. Azazel just hasn't quite figured out how Castiel feels about you, because otherwise he would attack you more directly."

"This isn't making a lot of sense. Castiel and I have only known about each other for ten years, why…"

"Ten years, the human says. You only have ten years worth of memories, but this isn't the first time you've been alive, Dean. Human souls are immortal, and the ones that do not go to heaven or hell get reborn. For some reason, Dean, you have been reborn so many times, and Castiel finds you every single time. Maybe that's why you keep being reborn, you can't go to heaven because you keep coming back for Castiel, you keep searching him out."

Dean could feel his consciousness slipping away at that point. Even though he couldn't see anything, he knew his field of vision was narrowing. His breathing became shallower, and he couldn't feel his fingers or toes anymore.

"Looks like we're going to have to keep up with the torture," Balthazar said, as if he were disappointed that Dean wasn't screaming yet.

Dean whimpered against the feel of the knife being drawn across his skin again.

"I tell you what, because I can see that you're not going to last much longer. I'll ask my father to ask his Father to bring you back with the same name. Maybe it will give Castiel a chance to find you sooner, so that you and he can spend a lifetime together. Maybe then you'll go on to heaven or hell, whichever one you choose, because then you two will have had your fill of each other. But right now, what I'm about to do is going to be quite a shock to your nervous system. I would try and encourage you to brace yourself, but it won't do you any good."

Dean heard a container of liquid being splashed around, and he whined. He knew what was about to happen. "Please," he let himself beg before he was drenched in salt water.

The pain was unbearable, and Dean let himself scream. He screamed for so long and so loudly that his throat hurt, and then Balthazar threw another bucket of salt water on him.

"Dean!" he heard Castiel's voice, but he couldn't stop screaming long enough to give the other man a 'Hey! How's it going! It's been a while, hasn't it?' Dean took comfort in the knowledge that Castiel had come for him, that he was going to be saved, and he wanted to say thank you. Of course, the inability to say anything was swiftly becoming an insignificant detail, what with the rapidity of Dean's consciousness slipping away, but it didn't stop Dean from knowing that a huge flash of light almost burned his eyeballs before his brain knocked him out.

Losing consciousness was not as much like sleeping as people seemed to think it was, Dean decided later. He could feel himself floating on pink clouds, the air was warm and dark, and he didn't need to contemplate things that he normally felt were important issues, like breathing. He wanted to stay unconscious, because he had a vague sensation that if he were to return it would be rather unpleasant, and the pink clouds of unreality were really quite comfortable and relaxing. It was over too soon, though.

Dean woke up screaming, but it hurt and his voice wasn't making any noise at all. He was completely panicked, but he heard Sam's voice.

"It's okay, Dean, we've got you," he said, and Dean could feel Sam's hand on his shoulder.

Dean slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the soft light of the living room fireplace. He looked around himself, realizing that Raphael and Castiel were standing in the room, too. Raphael was staring at him with a very concerned look on his face, and Castiel was staring at the fireplace.

"What happened?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. Castiel ran ahead of us, there was a huge flash of light, and then we walked into a room filled with dead bodies and you hanging from a cross. Castiel hasn't said a word since he carried you out of there. I think he's forgotten how to talk."

Raphael took one more look into Dean's eyes. "Did that man do anything to you?"

Dean sneered, "What, besides cut me to pieces and then throw salt water on my open wounds?" But Dean didn't feel as badly as he thought he should have, and he looked down at his body to see that there wasn't even a single scar to show that his skin had basically been flayed from his body. "What the hell?"

Sam and Raphael were staring at him, trying to figure out if he had gone insane, he was sure. "What the hell happened?" Dean repeated.

"Tomorrow," Raphael decided. "It's late, so we can talk about this tomorrow. Right now, we should all get some sleep."

Sam nodded. "Get some rest. Those guys are dead, so they won't be coming for you again."

"They'll come," Castiel said, still staring at the fire. "But it won't be tonight."

"Okay, we're going to get some sleep," Sam said, leaning over and kissing his brother on the forehead. "Sleep well, okay?"

Dean nodded, sitting up on the couch. "I think I want to take a shower."

Raphael and Sam nodded, and Castiel kept staring at the fire, so Dean walked upstairs and cleaned himself off.

He had just put his nightclothes on when Castiel came into his room. He was startled when Castiel immediately pushed him up against the wall and started kissing him. He wasn't complaining, but it did startle him.

"I thought we were going to see if we were friends still?" Dean gasped when Castiel kissed his jaw and his neck.

"I knit your flesh back together. I think that qualifies," Castiel said.

"We do need to talk about that," Dean said, "What the hell happened?"

"We're going to talk about it. That's why my Father made tomorrows," Castiel said, ripping Dean's shirt off of him. "Now shut up so that I can fuck you."

Dean wasn't complaining, and he pulled Castiel's face back up to his own so that he could kiss him. It was heaven, being able to kiss Castiel like this. And it felt so good, knowing that Castiel wanted him like this, the other man's desperation to touch Dean turned him on as much as the fact that it was his Castiel pawing at him, pushing his pants down around his ankles.

Dean wasn't much for letting someone else do all the work, and he pushed Castiel away slightly so that he could slip the shirt off of the slimmer man. Their hands touched skin, a hot velvet caress against chest and back. Dean couldn't stop himself, his hands swept down Castiel's broad shoulders, traced blades and spine, smoothing themselves back up so that he could bury them in Castiel's thick black hair, holding his face as he slowly fucked Castiel's mouth with his tongue. This was something that he could do forever and never have a single regret.

Castiel pulled Dean towards the bed, and Dean whined that Castiel's pants were still on. It didn't take long to shuck those, and both men moaned when they were naked on the bed together. Dean's leg raised up, the inside of his thigh rubbing against Castiel's leg as he hooked it over and inserted his foot close to the apex of Cas's legs.

Their hips stuttered along together, shaking every time their erections brushed against each other, damp silk with a million nerve endings. Dean's hand swept down so that he could hold both of them together, to drag his calloused palm slowly up and down their combined thickness.

Castiel growled at him, shoving his hand between Dean's legs, petting his balls and dragging a single digit down to stroke the thin skin between the shelf and his puckered hole. He teased, and Dean tensed because he knew that finger was dry. He pulled Castiel's hand back up to his mouth, sucking on it and staring at Cas's bright blue eyes that were almost blown out with black.

He pushed Cas's hand back between his legs, the spit on his finger making the single digit's slide into him a welcome intrusion. "God, you're fucking tight," Castiel groaned into Dean's neck. "Your hole is just pulling my finger inside, you want this."

"Yeah, fuck yeah," Dean whispered. "Want you so bad."

Castiel smiled, and Dean reached over to his bedside table to pull out a tube of lubrication. He coated his hand in it and slid it up Castiel's dick, the liquid making the movement easier, and forcing Castiel to sink his teeth into that sexy lower lip.

Castiel grabbed the lube from Dean, coating his fingers with the substance so that he could push more into Dean's hole, and at this passing he caressed the small almond shaped bump inside of him. Dean saw stars, gasping. It didn't take long for his body to open up, to make him wish for more. "Please," Dean begged him. "God, please Cas, I need you."

Castiel removed his fingers, which made Dean want him to put them right back but then they were replaced with the promise of something better. He could feel Cas nudging at him, and Dean spread his legs more and his hips pushed up, his dick pushing into Cas's stomach as Castiel slowly slid into him, giving him time to adjust around his girth.

They lay like that for a few moments, kissing each other, and then Castiel moved.

It was as if the earth shattered beneath Dean, this was his Cas moving over him, single drops of sweat dripping down Cas's face with the effort of holding back, his Cas shaking with the feeling of being inside of Dean. It was the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen, and Dean couldn't stop himself from tracing every part of Cas as he was getting fucked.

Only it wasn't really fucking. Cas's eyes were filled with love as he moved over Dean, filled with worship for his body and adoration in his eyes. Dean kissed him, grinding his dick into Castiel's stomach, and as Castiel moved he could feel his orgasm filling his body. "Baby, baby, _sha_," Dean gasped.

It was the old nickname that set Castiel off, and he filled Dean up with his ecstasy. Dean followed soon behind, spilling onto his own stomach, smiling when Castiel leaned down to lick a little at the mess.

"I love you, _sha_," Dean whispered to Castiel, holding him in his arms. "I never stopped."

"I know," Castiel whispered into Dean's neck. "I know, Dean."


	6. Chapter 6

Dean sat with Castiel at the breakfast table, staring at the gorgeous man in wonder. Castiel kept avoiding his eyes and blushing, but now wasn't the time to touch or kiss. They had to get the kids and Sam off to school, and Raphael had to get to work.

For the most part, the kids had been kept in ignorance of their dad's little foray into hostage/bait role-playing the night before. Dean was grateful, although he wondered if there would ever be a time that it was appropriate to tell them. He figured all it would do was cause them to worry, so the men made up some story about Dean having to go into work unexpectedly.

By the time the kids left, Castiel had decided to give them a quick run down of what he had realized and remembered. He was an angel, he had been an angel for millennia. He recalled the times he had come to Earth to inhabit different human bodies, and Sam pushed for information about history and law practices. Castiel admitted that many of the times he had come to Earth, he had inhabited some politicians bodies, but he mostly stuck to advisory roles to the ruling humans on the planet. He looked at Dean as if there was more that he was going to say on that subject, and Dean was a little nervous to talk about it in front of his brother and his cousin.

Sam and Raphael finally left, leaving Castiel and Dean alone. Dean immediately wrapped his arms around his lover, needing to be close to him and know that he still felt the same. Castiel rested his head on Dean's shoulder, but Dean could still feel the other man smiling at him.

"Quit," Dean said softly in Castiel's ear.

"What are you going to do if I can't?" Castiel mumbled.

Dean kissed Castiel's neck, running his fingers through his hair. "You don't want to know, _sha_," he laughed a little.

"Maybe I do," Castiel said, laughing up into Dean's eyes.

Dean's expression got serious, just for a moment. "I don't know if I could ever handle losing you again," he whispered. "I almost died when you were gone for so long. Now that you're an angel, you can't leave my side, y'hear?"

Castiel nodded. "Now that I remember I'm an angel, it's going to take a lot to get you away from me."

Dean nodded his head, "Tell me about us spending lifetimes together."

"Once you were named Alexander. Your father was a mighty king named Phillip, and I was your tutor. Your brother's name was Darius, but you weren't brothers in that lifetime. You and he fought a lot."

"What was your name?" Dean asked.

"Aristotle," Castiel replied.

"Who else were we?" Dean's head started reeling.

"When you were Cicero, I was Tullia. When you were Arthur, I was Merlin. When…"

"Whoa," Dean said, pushing Castiel back a slight way to stare at him. "You're saying we were some of the most influential people to have existed?"

"Yes, Dean," Castiel said, looking very seriously into his lover's eyes. "We have always been very important to each other."

Dean nodded, feeling weak. "We're not important like that in this lifetime," Dean said.

"No, I asked God to let us have a simple life together this time. We deserve that, especially because our next lifetime will be very difficult. This is our calm before the storm. Balthazar said not to worry though, he is already setting up for you to be born again with the same name. He has promised me this."

"That fucker," Dean snarled.

"No Dean, he wanted me to remember so that I could protect you," Castiel said. "I am very angry at him for the methods that he chose to employ, but I understand why he wanted me to remember."

"Why? What is so important…"

"My brothers' children are still enslaved by the Russians, Dean. I have to free them, let them have normal lives, and destroy the ones that cannot stop from becoming monsters because of their upbringing."

Dean frowned. "I can help you with that, when I start with the FBI."

Castiel nodded. "I think that was part of the reason God pushed you towards that position."

Dean rolled his eyes a bit. "It's so hard to think that God is real, like that, outside of church."

Castiel grinned at him. "Let's go upstairs and maybe work on some praying."

Dean felt himself get hot. "That is so wrong," he choked out.

"Yes, it is. Let's go punish me for it."

Dean followed Castiel up the stairs, hoping that he wouldn't trip or anything on his way up there. He figured that he wouldn't mind following Castiel everywhere until the end of time, as long as he got to stare at that ass.

Dean's bedroom was a little bit cold, but thankfully it was an older house and all of the bedrooms still had fireplaces in them. Castiel didn't take long to get a fire burning, and Dean was grateful because it made it easier for them to quickly shed their clothing and meet each other under the covers.

"Should we tell Sam and Raphael about our relationship?" Dean asked him, kissing his lover's forehead.

"Maybe," Castiel said. "Most people are not going to be comfortable with two men being lovers. It's never really worked out in the past for us to tell anyone."

"You think that we're going to have to keep it a secret in all of our lives?" Dean asked him.

"Yes," Castiel said honestly. "I do not think that humanity will ever embrace homosexuals. It was okay in Ancient Greece, even expected especially among the warriors of the cities, but since then it has been regarded with a degree of scorn. To make the lives of your children easier, we need to keep this a secret."

Dean really did not want to do that, but he didn't want Lissa or Ben to have a difficult time because of his selfishness. He kissed Castiel to keep his mind off of it, and soon he kissed Castiel because he simply could not stop kissing him. His lips were sweet, and his tongue was hot and wet. It was the most perfect combination that Dean could imagine, and he dragged his hands up and down Castiel's body, marveling at his angel's perfection.

Castiel murmured his name, and it was everything that Dean could do to not come at that husky sound. Dean kissed his way down Castiel's body, lingering at his nipples, feasting on his hipbones, making Castiel's back arch with pure need. He spread Castiel's legs apart, giving him access to his cock, his fingers lingering at the folds and the curves of his body while his mouth made wet glides on Castiel's sensitive skin. He loved the flush that Castiel got, his dick and his chest and his cheeks would get red when he was turned on like this. Dean flattened his tongue and dragged it up Castiel's balls, reaching under him to prop his hips up and tonguing the hole that he was going to fuck.

Castiel was a crying mess at that point, his hips twitching as Dean forced his tongue in. Castiel was begging in a thousand different languages, and Dean smiled even though he couldn't understand a single one of them because he knew what his angel wanted.

Dean leaned up, smiling at his angel, who simply reached up and pulled him down for a kiss as Dean slid into his home. Castiel gasped, his hips stilling where before they had been doing a lurid dance, and Dean froze because he was worried that he had hurt him.

"_Sha_," Dean whispered to Castiel, his eyes anxious and searching. With that one magic word, Castiel's hips started moving again, and he smiled up at Dean as if Dean had hung the moon. Dean prevented himself from howling with delight as Castiel surged around him like the ocean, but only just.

While both Dean and Castiel had pretty good rhythm, it seemed that while their bodies were joined it was a struggle to keep that together. It was mindless movement, the pleasure building and ebbing, and all of their minds was focused on the sensation that they caused within each other. Their hands searched each other's bodies, their mouths dragged slowly across skin, their tongues tangled and their lips caressed. Hands buried themselves in hair, and towards the end Castiel's hand snuck down to rub hard against the back of Dean's balls.

It was hard to say which one's completion sparked the orgasm in the other, although they knew that they would have to pay attention better next time, or the time after that, or possibly the one after that before they could come up with a satisfactory answer. In the long run, it didn't matter. They held each other, whispering into the other one's ear, until they dragged each other into the shower.

This was their easy life, and they were going to enjoy it before they had to be reborn into the next one. Hopefully, Castiel whispered into Dean's ear, hopefully they would come together as easy as they did in this one.

Dean had a sinking feeling that it wasn't going to be so easy, but he kissed Castiel before his angel could read that thought on his face. He was going to enjoy every single minute of this stolen time together, no matter what.

**A/N: I hope y'all have enjoyed this little brain fart of mine. I can't quite figure out what else I need to put in here, although I'm sure it's something. I wanted to get this end out 'cause the plot bunnies, they are a'breedin'. I don't think I'll be doin' much more with this 'verse, but I sometimes I have to write one shots or whatever to make the voices in my head shut the hell up. **

**Thanks for ridin' on this wagon with me, and thank y'all for your support and kind words. It's really hard for a writer to tell stories to an audience if no one responds. I know I don't thank you enough, and I'm sorry for that. I seriously check my stories like, ten times a day to see if anyone has liked them.** **Sorry this was so short, but did I mention plot bunnies? I also got to confess to a possessed laptop. Anytime I get new ideas, I swear it keeps opening a new Word Document. I'm probably hitting a key somewhere, but this stupid document keeps popping up.**

**Enough rambling. Thanks for reading!**


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